


The Best of Days

by Bibliodragon



Category: Battlestar Galactica (2003)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Holidays, New Caprica, Saturnalia, Teaching, teacher laura
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-28
Updated: 2020-04-28
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:47:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23890312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bibliodragon/pseuds/Bibliodragon
Summary: It's holiday season on New Caprica, and Laura Roslin decides to make the best of it. Hints of Adama/RoslinSpoilers: Pre-Occupation New Caprica
Relationships: William Adama/Laura Roslin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	The Best of Days

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on livejournal for the Remember Laura 2010 holiday exchange for obsessive_a101. She wanted to see teacher Laura and Laura interacting with a lot of people, so I hope this suffices :).

Without concern for the rhythms of their previous lives, Saturnalia came around on a damp day during what passed for the transition of summer to fall on New Caprica. The brief, heady sun of the Groundbreaking had given way to grey clouds with rude haste, with a near constant drizzle that had a way of soaking through to the bone. Much like the sun, her red dress had remained hidden away, left hanging up in her tent until, after allowing herself a day of sentimentality, Laura Roslin had given to necessity and traded it in for sensible warm sweaters.

Ever since she had dated her last journal and then stared down in it in surprise as she realised how close it was, Laura had been saddened to see how quiet the children had been. Her classroom had been severely lacking in the excited babble and growing tension she had witnessed many times during her teaching career, beginning many weeks before the event itself and leaving her having to come up with ways to keep their attention on learning and not what presents they had asked for and what they were certain they were going to get.

But really, the classroom was only a mirror to the tent city outside, as harsh reality refused to be swayed by unbridled optimism. And there was nothing like constant wet to emphasise that canvas walls were not substitute for bricks and mortar.

This was the path they had chosen, and there was no point in I told you so's. All she could do now was ride it out with them and teach their children.

No, she was not going to allow herself to go down that path, and leave herself a bitter old husk hating them for their stupidity. She had determined to do so when it had become clear there was no stopping what was going to happen.

Baltar was fair game, however.

It helped to curse him as she walked through the streets of mud that wound their way in-between the tents, stepping over taut rope that was now too familiar to her to prove a successful hazard. It helped her get across the open market square, where the wind was free to cut through her unchecked, and by the time she reached the open tents that offered New Caprica’s finest wares for sale she was able to haggle with perfect composure.

“Lo Saturnalia.” The old fashioned greeting came from the darkness of the tent, an ancient old woman wrapped into immobility by countless scarves of multiple, if faded, colours who sat behind a table that held her merchandise.

“Seasons greetings to you.” The same books from her last visit sat amongst other items, a comb missing several teeth, a watch with a cracked face and a small bronze ornament of the Halcyon birds on their nest nestled amongst the faded and ripped covers of books she never would have glanced at before. “I thought everyone had forgotten about it.”

The woman gathered her scarves around her and sniffed. “That’s the trouble with people today, always forgetting. And they were never doing it right when they were. All this commercialism, not what it’s all about. When I was a child we celebrated the proper way, with the proper ceremonies and the reversal of roles and such like.”

‘And the slavery and the orgies,’ Laura diplomatically did not say, instead just smiling lightly as the woman continued to speak.

“Not that we can expect anything like that from on high, which is disgraceful. I’m sure you wouldn’t have let such an important date go by without the proper observations. Though you are all set for it nowadays, no offence meant of course.”

It left her something to think about, long after she had made her way back to her tent and put her coat up, said hello to Maya and kissed Isis on the top of her head. The baby looked up at her with her fingers in her mouth as Laura thought and planned and wrote things down at her unsteady little desk, before slipping out into the cold once again.

The lamps had been lit by the time she returned. Isis threw up her arms in greeting, squirming at the cold as Laura lifted her.

“Hello Isis. You’re nice and warm. Have you been looking after your mother for me while I‘ve been out?”

Isis giggled as she grabbed a fistful of Laura’s hair, which meant most of the rest of the evening was spent trying to untangle her.

The next day, Laura faced her class the same way she always did. The same weary faces looked back at her, those who had looked up from their chatter to notice her standing before the blackboard, their expressions not so very different from all the other children faced with a full school week ahead of them that had passed through her classrooms, in spite of all they had been through.

“Good morning class.” As they intoned their response she turned to look out from under the tent flap then pulled it shut against the constant wind and turning back to smile at them with a brisk movement, the youngest ones smiling back brightly in response. “I know, I know, last week until vacation and you’d much rather be anywhere than here doing school work. But that’s still one more week to get work done. Come on, open your books and pick up from where you left off.”

Her words were met with the usual groans and undercurrent of conversation as students scrabbled for pencils and workbooks, chairs scraping against the ground and laughter from the youngest ones as they went back to their play. She walked between the tables, pausing to look at those taking their time until they got to work then exchanging smiles with Maya. This continued for ten minutes when after looking out one of the tent’s plastic windows she clapped her hands and called for attention.

“Alright, that’s enough work for today.” She no longer tried to hide her smile. “It’s only one more week until vacation, we might as well enjoy it.” She had more to say, but there was a sudden noise at the doorway and Kara Thrace was pushing her way in.

“I’m sorry, but it’s too cold to wait outside.” She stamped her feet and grinned, while behind her Sam Anders ducked under the tent flap looking sheepish. Laura set the older children to pushing the tables back and bringing more chairs forward as more people were ushered into the tent by Tory. Callie Tyrol, just starting to show, and a few others from the Galactica crew who had settled on the planet, a few members of the Quorum she had managed to convince, who were thinking ahead to the next election and how parents were potential votes.

And Tom Zarek. Who she had not attempted to convince, or even talk to. She had ducked out of the way before he could notice her. Behind him Tory caught her eye and gave a small shrug of annoyance. People talk, damn it! Her old politicians smile was quickly in place as if it had never left.

“Mr Vice President,” she said in a soft murmur as he approached her with that infuriating smile of his. “And what brings you away from affairs of state?”

“Why, the children are our future, Miss Roslin, and this administration always has time for our children.”

Which meant that he was also thinking of the future, and the possible benefits that could come from being seen to be actually working while Baltar was busy hiding himself away with his endless stream of floozies. At least he had not brought the entire New Caprica press corps with him to witness his altruism. She tried to be grateful for small miracles as she pushed her annoyance to the back of her mind. She had more important things to do.

“You all know that it will soon be vacation,” she said to the class. “Saturnalia is believed to have been a winter holiday throughout the Twelve Tribes going back to Kobol. And that meant it was celebrated in many different ways.”

Some of the teens grinned and snickered at this, which did not surprise her. Certain aspects of history were always more easily remembered than others.

“Some ways which were for the whole household to celebrate together, or in our case, classroom.” She stared each of the giggling teens down, careful not to let any amusement show. “One of which was the Reversal of Roles. Now, you’re probably wondering about our guests.” She turned to gesture to the crowd behind her with a smile. “While I’m sure you are looking forward to making Maya, Tory and myself do homework, I thought it would be more fun if you had even more adults to boss around. And if there were more adults for your class we might be able to hide.”

From the grins on some of their faces Laura knew that would not be likely. “So, for one day, and one day only I might add, you will be in charge of the classroom. But before I turn it over to you, remember I will be back in charge tomorrow, so don’t let the power go to your heads. You are all in charge, so you will all have to work together. Act within reason.” She did not have to turn around to know Kara was grinning wildly at those words. “Think about what work I set you, and how much of it. It wouldn’t be fair if you set us unattainable goals, would it. But yes, you can set homework, but a reasonable amount,” she said as laughs and whispers of glee passed from child to child. “Remember, I will be setting the homework tomorrow. And I have an excellent memory.”

Laura was not surprised to find she was the first target in the initial rush of children as they got to their feet to direct the adults to school work. “Well teachers, what is my first task of the school day?” she asked.

“Maths!” Little Danny Miller, seven years old and always at the mercy of times tables, grinned at her with evil delight.

“No, no, spelling lists.” Anna Sato had only had her dyslexia diagnosed a few days before the attacks and still considered words her ancient nemesis.

“I want to do painting with you, Miss Roslin.” Ida Reeds mumbled around the thumb in her mouth as she looked up at Laura shyly.

“Algebra! Don’t forget algebra.”

“Fractions!”

“One at a time,” Laura said with a laugh, breaking in before any serious squabbles could begin. “I can only do one thing at a time.”

After some intense negotiation, it was decided that Laura would start with the math excursive the older children had been set, which she tackled with the required amount of groaning and complaining as she surreptitiously observed what the rest of the class were up to. Sam Anders had attracted a crowd of teens, while Tom Zarek looked as if he was finding the constant questions of curious children a much different but no less challenging trial that running the gauntlet of the press. She carefully pretended she did not notice Kara had pulled a deck of cards out of nowhere and was showing the kids how to gamble.

She did not hear the footsteps at the doorway, or the rustle of canvas as the tent flap was lifted, but she did hear the excited muttering around her which prompted her to look up from a particularly difficult equation.

“Admiral!” Her face lit up in delighted surprise, and she did not notice the giggling from the girls at her table. “What are you doing here?”

Bill Adama looked awkward, standing in front of brightly scrawled pictures and under the scrutiny of a class full of children. As Laura looked up at him his craggy face broke into a smile, before he looked and nodded at the children at her table in acknowledgement of their presence.

“A little bird told me what you had planned here,” he said, and again Laura did not need to turn her head to know Kara was grinning again. “And I thought I should come down here to help out.”

“Then who’s keeping watch for Cylons?” Even though she was sitting next to her, Ida’s small voice was hard to hear, but Bill crouched down to her level without a flicker of discomfort at the state of his knees.

“You don’t need to worry, my men are still up there keeping watch, and Commander Adama with the Pegasus,” he said seriously. “And since it’s been so long since I was in school, I thought I should take this opportunity to refresh my skills.”

Ida considered this carefully. “Then you are late for class,” she said bravely. “Did you bring a note? If you didn‘t bring a note you get detention.”

“Even if it’s my first offence?” he said, and Laura could hear the amusement behind his solemn gravely tone.

“You can’t put the Admiral in detention!” One of the others hissed at the little girl.

“No, she’s quite right,” Bill said. “I am late for class.”

“Maybe, since it is your first time.” Ida looked down at her feet and then back up again with a serious frown. “But be on time from now on.”

“Yes ma’am.”

In the end, both she and Bill were given detention for talking during class.


End file.
